


flaws that i didn't know i had

by totallyfxcked (prettypoisons)



Series: All The Lives They Never Got to Live [2]
Category: Deadly Class (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Nightmares, Shabnam is just Gone for some reason. it is not explained, Suicide Attempt, but it is in a dream?, but still, his dream is all about falling off a building so.......
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-07 00:25:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18227429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettypoisons/pseuds/totallyfxcked
Summary: Marcus always dreamed he was falling. He dreamed about the wind hurtling past him, unaware of the things he’d done. He dreamed about freedom, about the cold air on his face as the ground grew closer and closer. He dreamed about the couple he always saw walking the sidewalk that was about to be his final resting place. They were always walking hand in hand, a boy a few yards behind them. Every night, he couldn’t remember why it felt so familiar. He fell and fell as if he had started off in the Heavens. The ground was always just far enough, just far enough that he could see their faces and he could try to remember and then the second he did-Splat!





	flaws that i didn't know i had

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! i'm really sorry if this was poorly written; i just did it for fun! you don't have to read the story before this to get what's happening as the series is kind of just going to be where i stick all my billy x marcus stuff:) i love some good old emotional hurt/comfort, so i made this! i'm not really looking for any constructive criticism or negativity since this was just for fun! thanks a bunch for checking this story out:)

Marcus always dreamed he was falling. He dreamed about the wind hurtling past him, unaware of the things he’d done. He dreamed about freedom, about the cold air on his face as the ground grew closer and closer. He dreamed about the couple he always saw walking the sidewalk that was about to be his final resting place. They were always walking hand in hand, a boy a few yards behind them. Every night, he couldn’t remember why it felt so familiar. He fell and fell as if he had started off in the Heavens. The ground was always just far enough, just far enough that he could see their faces and he could try to remember and then the second he did-

Splat!

Or, maybe. His dream never really reached the “splat” part, but there was really only one logical conclusion to the prior events.

He’d always wake up sputtering, heaving, gasping for air. He’d think about that book in the library he saw that one time the nice librarian with the odor of dust coating her jacket let him stay the night there, as long as he promised not to make a mess. It said that usually, when someone dreams about falling, it’s because they’re actually falling out of their bed. That didn’t seem to be the problem here, Marcus figured, because he was still very much in bed. Whatever. He’d given up trying to stop the dreams (nightmares?) ages ago. All he had to do was calm his breathing and go back to sleep.

Everyone in the entire goddamn school had some sort of psychological trauma, so Marcus was just being dramatic. “A melodramatic son of a bitch,” as Billy would say. That was it. Dramatic. All he had to do was calm down, and he would be golden. He wiped at his face harshly, hoping it would make him feel a bit more real. 

“Cement yourself,” his mother used to say, her voice soft; maybe he’d always been fucked up, even before he killed her. He killed her.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Nothing was working. Was this how Marcus was going to die? Really? Out of the bullshit he’d been through that year, he was going to die because his breathing had somehow gone fucking haywire, and he couldn’t calm it down? Real cool. Awesome. Tubular. Aces. Great. Just great.

Sometimes, during Marcus’ more troubled moments, he would forget he had a roommate. Since Shabnam was off doing whatever the fuck he was up to out of school for the next week or so- Marcus hadn’t really cared enough to listen while he was talking about it- Billy had been staying over. Something about his roommate snoring or some shit. Marcus suddenly felt even more guilty because, shit, being completely unable to breathe was probably a lot louder than snoring, wasn’t it?

“Jesus, Marcus, what are you doing? I thought you said you didn’t- Holy shit, are you okay?!”

Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder; Marcus was certain he jumped at least three feet in the air out of fright.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry, buddy, it’s just me.” Billy’s hand moved in quick, firm circles on Marcus’ back. 

Marcus breathed a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut. Jesus, this was embarrassing. He would never get over this. Billy would make fun of him for this every day in front of the others. It would spread around the school like wildfire. Everyone would know. They would talk about him. Whisper about him behind his back. They’d know he was prey. He’d be dead by the end of the week, that is, if he hadn’t died already. Fuck. Fuck.

“Can you hear me, dude?” Billy’s voice was soft, so soft, if voices could be soft. Could voices be soft?

Marcus nodded quickly, vaguely aware of the dizziness he was beginning to feel.

“Are you okay? Are you-are you dying?”

Marcus blinked, unsure of how to answer. Was he dying? He couldn’t breathe; that was a pretty popular symptom of dying, isn’t it? “I-I don’t know.”

“Alright. Okay. Did you get poisoned? Is it a physical thing?”

“No. No. I just can’t breathe. I can’t fucking breathe.” He found himself grabbing at Billy’s shirt, clenching the fabric tightly. 

Billy seemed a bit surprised by this, but subconsciously grabbed his friend’s wrists in response. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Splat! The sound echoed through his brain like a broken record. You killed them, the voice in his head said, you killed them. 

“I killed them,” Marcus muttered, nodding distractedly. “I killed them.”

“It’s all in your head, man. You’re with me. I’ve got you.” Billy took hold of Marcus’ hand, placing it over his heart. “Breathe. Okay? Breathe with me. Feel my chest moving? Do you think you can do that?”

Billy took an exaggerated deep breath, motioning for Marcus to copy him.

“Billy-“

“Breathe.”

Marcus complies, taking a shaky breath along with his friend. Billy muttered quiet affirmations, his face riddled with concern. He hoped the guards in the hallway couldn’t hear them; that would be a pain to explain.

They were there for another ten minutes before Marcus felt like he was able to breathe again. It was quieter then, though Billy was still whispering. Marcus would be lying if he said it didn’t help, if it didn’t take a load off of his shoulders.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he said quietly; his mind was too scribbly to think of some snarky comment to make.

“It’s no problem.”

“But it is, though, isn’t it? The whole reason you even came here was to get away from your snoring roommate, and I know for a fact that this shit isn’t better.”

“You’re useless.” His brain muttered. “All you are is an inconvenience.” Marcus spent most of his time wishing it would shut the fuck up.

“Was it a nightmare?” Billy asked, his voice going quiet on the word ‘nightmare’ as if even hearing it out loud would hurt.

“It’s not a big deal. It’s fine. You can just- go back to sleep. I’ll get over it.”

“Dude.”

“I’m fine,” Marcus insisted, even though he was clearly still upset. 

Billy hated emotions sometimes; he hated being vulnerable, but for Marcus? He would walk through Hell or high water.

“I get nightmares, too, you know. About my dad. About this place. About you…. guys. you guys. Dying. And it’s my fault. You know, all that fun shit. That’s the real reason I wanted to stay here, not because of my roommate, but because… I don’t know. I thought knowing you were right there across the room would make it easier.” Billy paused, his eyes on the comforter below because he couldn’t stand to meet Marcus’ gaze. “I’m trusting you with that. You better not tell anyone.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” There was a moment of silence before Marcus spoke up again. “No, yeah, it was a nightmare. About my parents.”

“Does that happen often? Like, the whole ‘can’t breathe’ thing?”

“What? I mean- yeah. It’s fucking annoying. You… You being here helped a lot though, man. Seriously. Sleep is rarity around here, though, so you should… Get some.”

If it was any other time, any other situation, Billy would’ve teased Marcus for being at a loss for words for once in his life, but somehow he understood that this was something worse.

“I’m not really tired. I usually wake up now anyways to get a smoke in before first period.” It was a lie; four in the morning was way too early to consider that kind of thing. 

“I know you’re lying to me.” A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

They talked for a bit. Billy was talking about some concert he had been to a couple years ago when he realized Marcus had fallen asleep, his head resting on Billy’s shoulder. He cut off his own speech abruptly; he couldn’t help but smile at the curly-haired boy. Speaking of curly hair, Billy found himself gingerly putting his hand in Marcus’, gingerly massaging his head.

Billy hoped, selfishly, that Shabnam would never came back.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading this you guys! kudos + comments are appreciated, but since i wrote this in ten minutes i'm not looking for any criticism, constructive or not! i hope you liked it:) also, i'm sorry if at any part this was inaccurate; this was completely based off my own experience and very minimal online research, so rip


End file.
